


Jeeves and the Day Off

by Nary



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Community: kink_bingo, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Facial Shaving, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, Master/Servant, POV First Person, Pre-Slash, Propositions, Service Kink, Very Subtle Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certainly Jeeves doesn't ask for very much time off.  Ever since the time he returned from an afternoon with his aunt (yes, he voluntarily spends time with an aunt!) to find the absolute cock-up I'd made of a poached egg and toast for tea, I think he may be somewhat reluctant to abandon the fort, to tell you the truth.  Sometimes I have to positively order him to take a spot of rest and relaxation, for his own good.  So it was on this particular morning, when I thought I detected the slightest hint of a droop in his starch.  "Jeeves," I asked from the comfort of my bed, "how long has it been since you took a day off?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Day Off

Even one's gentleman's personal gentleman deserves a day off now and again. Normally when Jeeves requests a brief leave of absence, I have no difficulty in granting it. After all, Bertram Wooster's mother didn't raise any fools, and I am fully capable of taking care of myself for short periods of time, provided that he leaves the larder and the bar amply stocked and the keys to the old Widgeon Seven in plain sight. Indeed, sometimes it is quite a luxury to pick out my own outfit for the day without being subjected to the critical eyebrow and the withering sniff. 

Certainly Jeeves doesn't ask for very much time off. Ever since the time he returned from an afternoon with his aunt (yes, he voluntarily spends time with an aunt!) to find the absolute cock-up I'd made of a poached egg and toast for tea, I think he may be somewhat reluctant to abandon the fort, to tell you the truth. Sometimes I have to positively order him to take a spot of rest and relaxation, for his own good. So it was on this particular morning, when I thought I detected the slightest hint of a droop in his starch. "Jeeves," I asked from the comfort of my bed, "how long has it been since you took a day off?"

He pondered the question only briefly as he presented the breakfast tray, laden with toast and marmalade, crispy bacon, and a cup of tea. "I believe it has been seven months and five days, sir."

"Dash it all, Jeeves, you ought to let me know these things! It's practically barbaric. You're not dentured, after all."

"I apologize, sir," he said, bowing slightly in that elegant way he has. "Although I believe the word you are seeking is 'indentured'."

"Well, regardless, you've still got all your own teeth, and you deserve a day to yourself."

He looked almost pained. "Sir, that is not necessary. I am perfectly content here, and I have no other obligations today."

"Nonsense!" I would have bounded out of bed, so inspired was I, but the breakfast tray rather hampered my bounding. "Have a stroll in the park, take in a music hall show, do whatever you'd like most!"

Jeeves went a bit blank about the eyebrows. "Sir," he said slowly, "what I enjoy most of all is being at your service."

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather! I mean, I knew the old chap enjoyed a neatly-pressed shirtfront and got positively effervescent over a good boot polish, but hearing that being at my beck and call was what made him happiest of all was quite another thing entirely. It gave one a rather unwholesome sense of feudal lordship, almost unbecoming in these modern times. But at the same time, I hardly wanted to deprive my loyal retainer of whatever small pleasures I could provide. "Would you like to... lay out my raiment for the day?"

He had already begun to do so before I'd even completed the sentence, moving briskly to the wardrobe and withdrawing the necessary items. And I must admit, he did choose rather a corker, the mustard twill from which he had so often discouraged me in the past. "I say!" I exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

"You will be dining at home today, will you not?" he inquired, as if perhaps having second thoughts about his selection.

"Barring any unexpected visitors or acts of aunt, I expect so."

"Very good, sir," he said with the barest smile, and added the orange waistcoat with the paisley pattern he had sniffed at so disdainfully when your humble narrator first brought it home. I could tell that he was bound and determined to spoil me today. Well, the least I could do for him would be to give him a bit of satisfaction in return. 

Finishing up my breakfast, I cleared my throat for him to move the tray rather than setting it aside myself. He hastened to whisk it away with a renewed spring in his step. "Jeeves, have you drawn the bath already?" I inquired.

"It is filling as we speak, sir," he said. 

"Excellent, very good," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and feigning a stretch and a wince. "I say, that round of golf with Bingo Little yesterday left me a touch tender in the shoulder department. Bingo offered me some of his uncle's patented liniment, but I shrugged it off. Today, though, it seems shrugging is entirely out of the question. I shall require your assistance in the bath this morning, as well as with shaving."

Jeeves doesn't show his happiness by crowing and clapping his hands and jumping about, but there was a certain gleam in his eye and a note of profound contentment in his voice when he said, "Of course, sir," that assured me I had made the correct decision. After all, every good and faithful servant deserves a 'well done, thou,' from his master now and again. 

Jeeves held my dressing gown for me as I slipped into my slippers, then strode ahead of me into the steam-filled bathroom to ensure that everything was just as it should be. I followed at a more leisurely pace, but of course I needn't have worried. By the time I made my entrance, he was just shutting off the water and turning to receive my dressing gown once more. Thus disrobed, I became equally dis-slippered and dis-pyjamaed in a matter of moments. Jeeves provided an arm to assist me into the water, which was a pleasantly skin-searing temperature, then briskly removed his own jacket and turned up his sleeves. "If you would lean forward, sir," he said in that way that brooks no argument. I leaned forward. 

While he has many skills, Jeeves is not a nursemaid. His ministrations with the sponge and soap were wickedly efficient. Once he had finished his scrubbing, he applied a pleasantly-scented bath oil and began rubbing it into my skin with fingers that felt like they were trying to burrow through my muscles and grab hold of my skeleton. I might have let out a whimper or three. When he had completed this particular torture, he indicated that I might now recline. There was a thoughtfully-placed towel for me to rest my head on, and leaning back into the hot water, I felt rather like a steamed, well-kneaded dumpling. In a good way, I assure you. 

His attentions to the forefront of the Wooster edifice were less abrasive, but no less conscientious. He scrubbed with an unmatched dedication and thoroughness, reaching oft-neglected locales and ensuring they were rendered utterly impeccable. "I ought to have you do this more often," I may have been heard to mumble between contented sighs. 

"I would be pleased to oblige, sir," Jeeves replied, up to his elbows in suds. "I only hope my services are... satisfactory to you." I wasn't sure what to make of it, but there was definitely a slight hesitation in his response.

"Oh, certainly," I assured him blithely, since of course there was nothing else I could say. His performance had never been anything but completely satisfactory since the day he'd entered my service. Indeed, on innumerable occasions he had risen far above the call of duty in aid of his young master, who, I must admit, had a tendency to get himself into many a sticky situation. 

"If there was anything else I could do, sir," he continued, not meeting my eyes, "you need only ask."

"Well, now that you mention it," I said, more than a little flustered and bewildered, "that shave would be jolly nice right about now."

"Yes, sir." He rose and fetched the shaving accoutrements. I fancied there was a hint of resigned disappointment in his tone, as there might be if I had chosen to wear a straw boater in April, although I wasn't sure why that should be the case. He returned to his perch on the small stool by the tub and began applying the lather to my jaw. I closed my eyes, permitting him to simply do his work without further interruption. Take my advice - talking while someone is holding a razor to your throat is inadvisable under any circumstances.

Jeeves worked quickly and carefully, handling the blade like a sheik would his scimitar, and by the time he had finished, your humble narrator's face was as smooth as the day he was born. He wrapped it with a hot towel as a final, soothing step, and I gave a sigh of perfect happiness. "Marvellous," I said, although it was rather muffled by the towel around my face. I think he understood what I meant, though.

There was relatively little chit-chat as he assisted me in rising from the bath and drying off. As I secured my dressing gown once more about me, Jeeves drained the water from the tub and rinsed the shaving mug and brush of lather. I sensed there was some new tension in the air between us, worse even than the time I had attempted to grow a mustache. 

"Jeeves," I began as we returned to my bedroom, and found myself at a sudden loss for words.

"Yes, sir?" His tone was calm and pleasant as usual. Only someone as attuned to his moods as I was could have detected the note of discontent buried in his voice, the way he turned his head. 

I tried to make it up to him in the best way I knew how. "Dispose of that ghastly orange waistcoat," I said, pointing to it. "You're quite right, it doesn't suit me at all, I don't even know why I bought it. Why don't you pick out something more appropriate from my wardrobe?"

"Certainly, sir," he said, bowing his head politely to conceal his smile.

"And, well, if there _is_ something else you wanted to do for me, some special service you wanted to provide...." I added, but he interrupted me, something he almost never did.

"Sir, it was inappropriate of me to even suggest..." he began, but I persisted, talking over him.

"...then perhaps you could show me what you mean. Because I wouldn't want to take something like that the wrong way, you see, and I know I do sometimes get the wrong end of the stick, so to speak..."

"No, sir," he replied quietly, stepping forward to help me with my dressing gown. "I don't believe you have, in this instance." His hands hesitated at the knot in my belt as he scrutinized my face.

"Well," I said, blushing uncontrollably. "Well, so long as we're on the same page. Carry on, then." And carry on he did, to everyone's immense satisfaction. I'm devilishly glad I wasn't able to convince him to take the day off.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


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